Page 69 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Yes, this is the barista I’m sure you’ve heard so much about.”

“Honestly, I don’t pay attention anymore,” I assure her, then I look back at Adam. “It’s nice to meet you, man. You both look really happy.”

“We are.” Adam nods, and he looks at Bernice with such admiration that my heart swells and Lily floods my mind.

“I’m glad. Anyway, I have to go. Merry Christmas!” As I turn to leave, Bernice catches my elbow lightly.

“James, wait. If you’re not staying for Christmas, then where are you going?”

I flash her the strongest smile I can muster. “I’m going home to win my family back.”

27

LILY

James left.

I don’t know why I expected anything different. The morning after our fight, my parents called to say that James had left really early and they thought they were giving me a heads up to an early surprise.

Instead, James was seen leaving town and that was that.

Deep down, I knew this would happen, but proving myself right just came with a bucket load of tears and crushing disappointment. I had fallen for him all over again and now, just like I feared, he learned of his fatherhood and he took off, likely on the first plane back to New York.

The only thing that made it worse was when Emma came down for breakfast and immediately asked where James was. I tried to tell her that he’d been called away, but she’d babbled on and on about how she hoped he would be back by Christmas so he could see her dance and they could go ice skating together.

At first, I tried to appease her, but it simply became too painful. After one too many cheery declarations that we had to get extraChristmas dinner for James, I snapped at her and told her the truth.

He didn’t like us anymore and he was never coming back.

That word choice was harsh for a six-year-old, and I spent all afternoon apologizing and drying my daughter’s tears. But the damage was done.

I had let James back into my life when I should have kept that door firmly closed.

Now I’m heartbroken again, and I have a six-year-old with no clue that her father has just walked out on her. Again.

By the time I get her down to sleep, I’m utterly exhausted and it had completely slipped my mind that Amelia is coming over to help with presents until she turns up at my door with sparkling wine and paper.

“Surprise! Oh, Lily.” Amelia sobers up the moment she clocks my tear-filled eyes and streaked face. “Oh, sweetie.”

I have no words as I wave her inside and trudge toward the kitchen in search of glasses.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Amelia asks while unwinding the scarf from her neck. “Or do you just want a sounding board so you can shit talk him?”

Collecting glasses from the top shelf, I sigh deeply and set them down next to the wine bottle, then I dab at my leaking eyes.

“There’s not much to say.” I sniffle. “He was starting to work things out. Emma was getting close to him. I was too, so I just opened my big mouth and told him the truth.”

Amelia shakes snow from her hair, picks up her glass, and then follows me into the lounge.

“And?” she asks, kneeling down on the floor. “What did he say?”

I roll my eyes with a soft groan. “He said he had no idea that I'd tried to reach out, and he got defensive over his mother, and then he was hurt that I didn’t trust him with the truth.”

“Oh, wow.” Amelia sips her drink as she nods. “And then he left?”

“For good.” I wince. “My parents saw him pack up and leave the in. He’s gone, Amelia. Really gone.”

Hot tears well up behind my lids, and I whimper, then sink into her outstretched arm. For a few long moments, there are no sounds but my muffled sobbing and the soft, gushing sounds rumbling around Amelia’s throat. She holds me tight, and I bury into her knitted sweater until the wave of tears passes.

---